Supernatural Hunger Games SYOT
by JadeBlueIvy
Summary: A repost, because the other one got deleted. Watch supernatural characters compete in the Hunger Games! Edward Cullen, Percy Jackson, Luke Skywalker: watch them and more fight to the death! Closed, but still in progress.
1. Tribute List

**Here is the tribute list, just so people remember.**

District One

Boy: **Harry Potter**

Girl: **Jane Voultri (Twilight)**

District Two

Boy: **Darth Maul (Star Wars)**

Girl: **Raksha Keller (Night World)**

District Three

Boy: **Po Grandemalion (Graceling)**

Girl: **Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson)**

District Four

Boy: **Percy Jackson**

Girl: **Ariel Eversea (The Little Mermaid)**

District Five

Boy: **Thor Odinson (the god)**

Girl: **Raine Sage (Tales of Symphonia)**

District Six

Boy: **Frodo Baggins (Lord of the Rings)**

Girl: **Lana Lazar (Gone)**

District Seven

Boy: **Remus John Lupin (Harry Potter)**

Girl: **Madeleine Force (Blue Bloods)**

District Eight

Boy: **Edward Cullen (Twilight)**

Girl: **Sheena Fujibayashi (Tales of Symphonia)**

District Nine

Boy: **Dr. Facilier (The Princess and the Frog)**

Girl: **Violet Parr (The Incredibles)**

District Ten

Boy: **Luke Skywalker (Star Wars)**

Girl: **Elizabeth Sherman**

District Eleven

Boy: **Leck of Monsea (Graceling)**

Girl: **Penny Redvine (Gone series)**

District Twelve

Boy: **Castiel Angel (Supernatural)**

Girl: **Chaos (Percy Jackson)**

**I'll get started soon, but I'm working on several other stories at the moment, so I might not update as soon as you like.**


	2. Quell Announcement

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Hunger Games, or the characters of Lord Rust and Dr. Burrows.**

Lord Ronald Rust waited impatiently behind the scenes, in a plain room in back of the stage. He was about to address the whole of Panem on television. This was a big day. It was the fourteenth Quarter Quell, and Lord Rust's first time announcing one. He had better not mess it up. He wouldn't, though. He was used to addressing crowds.

A small red light beeped on, signaling to Lord Rust that it was time to go onstage. He walked out, to thunderous applause. Lord Rust did not smile, but raised his hand and turned his piercing blue eyes to survey the audience.

"Welcome to the three hundred and fiftieth Hunger Games, and the fourteenth Quarter Quell. As the president of Panem, I am very happy to be here and announcing these special Hunger Games."

And now he did smile. His eyes seemed to get colder, as cold and blue as ice. "Please give me the envelope, Doctor Burrows."

A man with glasses handed Lord Rust an envelope.

"It is a blessing," said Lord Rust, "That there have been three hundred and fifty years of Hunger Games. The Capitol's victory over the rebels will never be forgotten."

With a swift, smooth movement, he slit the envelope with a paper knife, and took out the letter. The rustling of paper was the only sound in the huge room. The whole of Panem was holding their breath, waiting for the special twist that would shape these Games.

"As a reminder that every person, young or old, is capable of treachery, there will be no age limit on the reaping choices. Every person in every district will be eligible for the Hunger Games."


	3. Reapings 1 to 3

**So! This story is a repost. The other one got deleted by the administrators for being an interactive story or whatever.**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, OR THE HUNGER GAMES. **

**District One Male: Harry Potter**

Harry walked over to the reapings with his friends Ron and Hermione. They didn't like the Hunger Games, but they had no choice. If they didn't go, the Peacekeepers would arrest them, and magic didn't work against them. Every spell the wizards cast at the Peacekeepers bounced right back off. Harry had tried several—_Muffliato_ and _Levicorpus_, which had resulted in Ron getting hoisted into the air when he couldn't duck fast enough.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their seats at the edge of the Seventeen section, sitting uncomfortably on the hard seats. Hermione was wearing her usual expression of disapproval, the one she had on at every reaping. Ron was pale, glancing at the stage and back at his friends, swallowing nervously. Then the escort, Bobby Pendragon, walked onstage, and Hermione's frowned deepened, though she kept her eyes on him.

Harry looked over to Ginny. She was looking at him too, and managed a shaky smile. Harry turned back to the front. He couldn't bear the thought that one of his friends could get reaped. He knew that if Ron were picked, he would volunteer. He would volunteer for Ginny and Hermione, too, if he could—but he couldn't.

"Welcome to the three-hundred and fiftieth Hunger Games. Don't forget—it's a Quarter Quell. The special twist this year was that anybody of any age can be reaped—so hold on to your kids." Bobby paused, and a sarcastic smile spread across his face. "I'm sure the Capitol won't let anything bad happen, though. Of course not."

He reached for the bowl with the names of the boys. "Now hold your breath for the male tribute." He picked up a slip of paper.

"Beckett Fowl."

"No!"

Harry looked towards the cry and saw that a woman had shouted. A little boy was standing up. He couldn't have been older than four. An older brother was sitting near him, a look of shock frozen on his face.

"My name?" The little boy sounded uncertain. "Artemis?" He looked to his older brother, who was still frozen. "I go up?"

Harry knew what he had to do. His heart pounded. That little boy—Beckett—would never survive in the Hunger Games. His mouth dry, Harry stood up.

"I volunteer."

"Harry—" Hermione looked frightened. "Harry—"

Ron looked sick. "Harry—mate—" He swallowed. "Just—"

"I have to do this. I—" Harry shook his head. "I'll come back, I promise." He looked to Ginny. She was halfway out of her seat, a terrified expression on her face. "Harry, don't do it!"

He shook his head again. "Bye, Ginny," he whispered. He walked onto the stage.

"Name?" Bobby asked.

"Harry Potter."

As long as he had his wand, he would be all right.

**District One Female: Jane Volturi**

Jane and Alec walked through the crowd, silence all around them like a blanket. Their cloaks billowed out, almost in slow motion, as they swept through the crush of people. Humans parted before them; it was either that or feel unimaginable pain.

As they made their way to their seats, they passed Alice Cullen and her husband. Jasper snarled at Jane, but her only response was a slow smile. The couple watched with burning eyes as Jane and her brother sat down, taking the best seats, right in front of the stage. The seats started filling in, but a wide space around the two vampires was left empty. Nobody wanted to sit next to the Volturi.

"A pity Caius couldn't make it," said Alec.

"Yes," said Jane. "But he was feeding."

"Ah."

The first name was called out. Jane smiled sadistically when she saw it was a small boy.

"Easy," she half-snarled.

She watched impassively as the older boy volunteered. "A wizard."

"Do you think you could take him?" Alec asked, raising a perfect eyebrow.

Jane only smiled.

"Next is the female tribute," announced Bobby Pendragon.

He read the slip of paper.

"Jane Volturi."

Alec looked to Jane. She bared her teeth in a twisted smile. "I'm hungry."

Alec smiled, his blood-red eyes glinting. "Bring some back for me."

**District Two Male: Darth Maul**

A tattooed devil walked through the stadium, cutting a swath through the crowd, sometimes literally: his great double-sided sword (lightsabers aren't allowed) sliced through the air whenever somebody blocked his path.

A Peacekeeper approached Darth Maul apprehensively—not the usual attitude for these policemen, but then again Darth Maul wasn't exactly the usual person.

Darth Maul stopped and looked down on him.

"You, uh, the people think, uh, you need to stop using your sword while in the stadium. It is a danger to the District," said the Peacekeeper.

Darth Maul said nothing.

"Um, thanks."

Darth Maul made no move to put away his weapon. The Peacekeeper scuttled away.

Darth Maul resumed stomping through the stadium, heading to the "18+" section. When he got there, he did not sit, but remained standing.

Rufus Scrimgeour walked onto the stage to thunderous applause. He raised a hand, acknowledging the attention, and waited until the applause had died down. "Thank you," he said in his gruff voice. "Welcome to the Three-Hundred and Fiftieth Hunger Games. I will pick the male tribute first."

He took a paper from the bowl. "Darth Maul."

Darth Maul's face showed no emotion as he strode up to the stage. Scrimgeour held out his hand to shake, but Darth Maul didn't take it. "Right," Scrimgeour said. He turned back to the audience.

Once everybody's attention was not on him, Darth Maul's lips curled up in a gruesome smile. These Hunger Games would be bloody.

**District Two Female: Raksha Keller**

Keller watched Darth Maul walk onto the stage. She was impressed, but not very intimidated. This person, or devil, whatever he was, had his weaknesses, just like everybody else. He was probably strong, but not very fast. He was good with that sword, though. She had seen him swinging it around in the stadium earlier, and steered clear. She wouldn't want to get in a fight with him.

But she wouldn't now, because he was reaped for the Hunger Games. She would probably never see him again except for on television. Or maybe he would win—he seemed like someone who would win everything.

Scrimgeour took a slip of paper from the bowl. "The female tribute is Raksha Keller."

Wow. Huh. Who would've thought? But she could survive in the Hunger Games, easy.

Keller walked up to the stage, cool and collected. She wasn't about to break down in front of the whole of District Two. She shook hands with Rufus Scrimgeour and smiled. "I'm glad to be reaped."

Lying, but okay. The Games wouldn't be that bad, but she would rather not be in them. Oh well. Too late to wish now. She had to start strategizing.

**District Three Male: Po Grandemalion**

Po relaxed lazily in his seat, his boots up on the seat in front of him. One arm was around his lover, Katsa, who was leaning into his shoulder. She was idly tracing the many rings on his fingers.

"Po," she said, "What's this ring for?" She touched a small plain ring with a thin gray line.

"It's for my mother," Po said, tilting his head to see it. "Remember? I told you."

"Oh yes," said Katsa. "I remember."

Then the escort, Kendra Sorenson, walked onstage. She was young, only eighteen. She had won the Games just last year.

"Po, sit up straight. This is important," teased Katsa.

"As you wish." Po took his feet off the seat in front but still leaned back, slouching in his seat. "She's not looking at me anyway."

"You would know." Katsa smiled.

"I'm blind, Katsa. How am I supposed to know?" Po asked in mock indignation.

Katsa smiled again. "Have you forgotten about your Grace? But it's time to be quiet. She's talking now."

"Welcome to the 350th Hunger Games," announced Kendra. She looked like she didn't want to be doing this. But she had to.

"I'll pick the male tribute now." She reached into the bowl for the male tribute and picked a paper. Before reading it, she took a deep breath. It wasn't her fault who was picked. Everyone knew that, but still Kendra didn't want to sentence an innocent to death.

"Po Grandemalion."

Katsa looked at Po, shocked. He was sitting bolt upright, staring with wide eyes at the stage, even though he couldn't see a thing. He sensed her looking at him, and turned to face her.

"I'll be all right," he said, and stood up. "Good luck," Katsa whispered.

Po walked to the stage. Kendra looked up at him. He was way taller than her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, soft enough that the Peacekeepers couldn't hear. Po nodded.

Po would do fine. He had his Grace to protect him.

_Note: Po is blind, but he can sense everything around him. It's kind of like he can "see" the outlines/shapes of things. He can also sense what people are thinking about him._

**District Three Female: Annabeth Chase**

Annabeth ran over to the stadium. She was late. She had waited too long with Percy. She should have gone earlier, and now she was going to be late.

She skidded around a corner and entered the stadium. Annabeth relaxed. The reapings hadn't started yet.

"Annabeth! Over here!"

Annabeth looked over and saw Grover frantically waving his arms. "I'm coming, I'm coming," she said.

Grover grabbed her arm. "Come on, we need to sit down!"

"Relax, it's barely started. We can still get a seat."

She led him over to their seats. They sat down just as the escort walked onstage, and the reapings started.

A man was picked for the reapings, and Annabeth noted how Kendra looked sorry to have picked him. Annabeth had talked with Kendra a few times. They were sort of friends.

Then Kendra reached into the "girl" bowl for the female tribute. Annabeth leaned out of her seat, tense. She was probably safe, but…

But no one is ever safe from the Capitol.

"Annabeth Chase."

Kendra looked horrified at her own words. She looked up, eyes wide, and met Annabeth's shocked gaze.

"Annabeth!" Grover half-whimpered.

Annabeth stood up. She would do this. She would win these Games, and come back and live her life and be with Percy. She would not lose.


	4. Reapings 4 to 6

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, OR THE HUNGER GAMES.**

**District Four Male: Percy Jackson**

"We're going to be late, seaweed brain," said Annabeth as she smacked Percy on the head.

"That's your fault. You dragged me out here." Percy smiled. "But you're right. We should go now."

They took off, heading to their districts. Luckily, their districts were very close together. They could meet anytime they wanted, which was often. But now they had to go. The reapings were about to start, and they couldn't miss those.

Percy spotted Nico taking his seat, and jogged over to him. "Hey," Percy said in greeting. Nico nodded, his eyes fixed onto the stage.

"Welcome to the three hundred and fiftieth Hunger Games." Seth Sorenson, the escort, announced. He had a sister in another district. They had been raised separately, for some reason. Seth had become sort of friends with Nico. They both had similar powers: Nico was the son of Hades, and Seth was a shadow charmer. They both could command dark powers.

Seth's eyes alighted on Nico before continuing. "Here is the male tribute."

He picked a slip out of the bowl, quickly and with his eyes scanning the audience. He looked bored.

"Percy Jackson."

Percy looked stunned. Nico turned to him, and studied Percy closely. Then he smiled slightly. "I'll bring you back if you die," he offered.

Percy got up. "Yeah," he said. He walked up to the stage like a zombie. Then he blinked, and seemed to realize he was really up there. His face twisted into a determined expression. He would come back. The Hunger Games could never defeat the son of the sea god.

**District Four Female: Ariel Eversea**

Ariel hummed sweetly as she combed her hair, running through the tines of the fork through her bright red hair. She had hairbrushes now, but why bother using them? Forks worked just as well.

"Ready, Ariel?" Eric poked his head around the corner. They were just outside the reaping stadium, and Ariel had stopped to look at herself in a piece of glass.

"Ready, Eric," she said. She smiled, and he slipped his arm around hers as they walked through the doors. They entered like royalty, but nobody noticed. They walked the rest of the way to their seats like normal people.

Eric bowed graciously and kissed her hand. "Lady," he said, and gestured to a seat. Ariel giggled and took it. Eric sat himself next to her. Ariel took out her fork and started combing her hair again, humming aimlessly as they waited.

"That poor boy," Ariel whispered when Percy got reaped. Eric shook his head and sighed unhappily. "It's always sad when the good die young."

"And now for the girl tribute," said Seth. He seemed a little downcast at the reaping of his friend.

"Ariel Eversea."

"Me! Oh, it's me!" Ariel gasped.

"Don't go up there, Ariel. Maybe someone will volunteer," Eric whispered.

But no one did.

Ariel bit her lip and stood up, her eyes watering. "Goodbye, Eric." He kissed her cheek.

Ariel stepped over to the stage and stood next to Percy. Her eyes on Eric, she started to sing, a haunting, mournful melody that echoed off the roof of the stadium and reverberated throughout the whole of District Four. It was a long, sad farewell, bidding goodbye to her district, her love, and her fork.

**District Five Male: Thor Odinson**

A huge figure stormed up and down the aisles, his dark, scowling face prompting everyone to give him a wide berth. When the escort walked onstage, Thor grumbled, "Finally," and stomped over to his seat.

"Welcome to the Reapings," said Eragon, the escort. He looked over the crowd solemnly. "This is a special occasion. This Quarter Quell is…" his lips tightened and he looked almost angry. "…extraordinary."

He picked a paper.

"Thor Odinson."

"Hah!" Thor bellowed. He leaped from his seat and marched to the stage. He grinned, almost leered at the audience. He would win these Games. Nobody could beat him, the lightning god! Thor raised his hammer and a bolt of lightning lanced down from the sky. Thor roared. He would win!

**District Five Female: Raine Sage**

Raine calmly watched Thor put on his little show. He would be a tough tribute to fight. The person who beat him would have to be really, really strong. Or have powers. Maybe the girl tribute from her District Five would kill him. Take down the strongest man first. It would be the best thing to do.

Raine's eyes wandered to Eragon again. He was half-elf, just like her, but had gotten his powers through some kind of magic. A celebration or something.

But he had a girlfriend, kind of. So he wasn't an option.

Eragon scanned the crowd again, his eyes moving over the stadium. He hadn't even flinched when Thor's lightning bolt had blasted down right next to him. He would be a worthy competitor…and he had been, hadn't he, in his Hunger Games. Apparently he didn't like to kill, though.

Eragon reached for the bowl in a swift, fluid movement. He pulled a slip out and read it out loud.

"Raine Sage."

Raine didn't cry, or gasp, or even show any emotion. If she was going to survive these Games, she had to present herself as a killer, a coldhearted, unemotional killer. Someone who was going to win.

**District Six Male: Frodo Baggins**

"Frodo. Frodo."

Merry waved a bag in Frodo's face. "Mushrooms!"

"Mushrooms?" Sam peered over Frodo's shoulder. He grabbed the bag and looked inside.

"Hey, give it back!" exclaimed Merry. He reached for the bag, but Sam yanked it away and pulled out a brown field mushroom. He sniffed it, not even noticing when Pippin grabbed the bag from him. Merry and Pippin stuffed handfuls of the mushrooms into their faces, gorging themselves on the field mushrooms.

Frodo picked a mushroom for himself. He grinned. "We need to leave," he said.

"But we haven't had second breakfast yet!" said Sam, through a mouthful of mushroom.

"I have some apples in my bag," said Merry eagerly.

"The reaping. We need to go," insisted Frodo. The other hobbits didn't pay attention.

Eventually they got to the stadium. The doors were just closing, but they ran, and slid through the doors just as they slammed shut. The seats were full, so the hobbits didn't sit down, but stood clustered around the doors.

They had come in the middle of the escort's speech, but Frodo couldn't hear. Merry and Pippin were fighting over the last mushroom in loud whispers.

"It's mine! It's mine!"

"Shutupshutup! I want it!"

"Give it to me!"

"Give it to _me_!"

They yanked the bag back and forth until finally the mushroom fell on the floor. They fell to their knees and scrabbled in the dirt for it, but Frodo wasn't paying them any attention. He was trying to hear the escort, who had finished talking and was reaching into the bowl.

"Frodo Baggins."

"_Mister Frodo!_" Sam stared at Frodo in horror. Frodo was just staring at the stage, his expression blank.

Sam pushed in front of Frodo. "I vol—"

"No, Sam."

Frodo pushed Sam aside and stepped forward, his gaze fixated onto the stage. He had a weird look on his face, shocked and dazed and something else. (If you saw the movies you know what I mean.)

Frodo took another step toward the stage. He turned to look at his friends one last time. Merry and Pippin were frozen on the floor, looks of shock on their faces. Sam's face was contorted, his cheeks grimy with dirt and tears.

"Frodo," he said.

Frodo turned away and walked to the stage.

**District Six Female: Lana Lazar**

Lana lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall. The stadium was packed with people, but she managed to find an area where she could smoke in peace. It was near the bathrooms, but she had to put up with the smell. It was somewhere to smoke.

A man passing Lana glanced dismissively at her, but then did a double-take as he realized she was only fourteen. Lana smiled sourly. Yeah. Fourteen and smoking. Drinking, too, but the bottles were at home. But that was what the FAYZ did to you…and now she was in a place almost as bad.

The escort Cobb walked onstage and Lana stubbed out her cigarette. She would take the cigarette to her seat, but the Peacekeepers didn't like it.

"Here, Patrick," she called to her dog, and they sat down. Lana impatiently fiddled with her pack of cigarettes as she waited, wanting the reapings to be over so she could get back to her house. Already she was longing for another cigarette. But it had to wait.

"Frodo Baggins" was called, and some midget walked onto the stage. Lana thought they might be called hobbits, but she wasn't sure. She didn't pay much attention to anything besides her private life.

Cobb cleared his throat and reached for the other bowl. "The female tribute is…"

He read the paper.

"Lana Lazar."

Lana stopped playing with her cigarettes and stared at the stage in disbelief. _What?_

But she quickly recovered and walked onstage. She was probably the best person to go into the Games. She had the power of healing.

And besides, how much worse than the FAYZ could the Hunger Games be?


	5. Reapings 7 to 9

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, OR THE HUNGER GAMES.**

**District Seven Male: Remus Lupin**

Lupin sighed. This was the second year of the reapings since Sirius had died, but Lupin still wasn't used to sitting without him. Usually Sirius was right there besides him, scowling at the stage. But this year and the last, the space at Lupin's side was empty.

Not that Lupin sat alone. This year Tonks sat with him.

"Hi," she said, arriving at the seat next to him.

"Hey." He smiled. Being with her made him feel younger, and less tired. He put his arm around her. "How do you feel?"

Tonks smiled and unconsciously reached down to her stomach. "I'm fine."

Drake, the escort, walked onstage. Lupin frowned, dragged into his dark mood once again. Drake had won the Games only last year, so he was still young. He was dark and sadistic, but that wasn't the only reason he won the Games. His right arm was a long, snakelike whip. He had used that to his advantage, choking and flaying the children he was competing against. Drake was brutal and ruthless and enjoyed causing other people pain.

Needless to say, Lupin didn't like Drake.

"Well, well," Drake chuckled. He snapped his whip hand with a loud crack. "Here I am, the victor of the Games. About to announce this year's tributes." He smirked. "Poor, poor them."

A Peacekeeper motioned for Drake to hurry up. Drake scowled at him and cracked his whip hand again, dangerously close to the Peacekeeper's head. "Whatever."

"I guess I'll pick the male tribute first." Drake reached over to the bowl and pulled out a paper. "This year's victim—oops, I mean _tribute_," he smirked again, "is, uh…"

"Remus Lupin."

"Lupin!" Tonks gasped.

Lupin strove to remain calm. "Don't worry, Tonks. I'll come back." He looked into her eyes, trying to reassure her. He himself wasn't so sure he would come back. But he had to try. For Tonks. For their baby.

"I'll come back," he repeated.

**District Seven Female: Madeleine Force**

Mimi walked to her seat, with her followers hanging on her every word. Mimi was talking about some random thing; she wasn't even paying any attention to what she was saying. She knew her so-called "friends" would agree with whatever she was saying.

"Can you believe that? She totally said it! Right to my face! I couldn't believe it! So I said, right back at you, _bitch_." Her sycophants chattered in agreement and babbled to her about how funny that was. Mimi rolled her eyes. "Shut up," she said sharply.

She cut a glamorous figure, walking through the crowd. She looked like a model, with platinum blond hair and a beautiful body. A look of haughty arrogance was on her face. Boys stopped and stared when she walked past. Mimi smirked. They saw her every day. They should know what she looked like.

Her followers kept talking as Mimi took her seat, but she wasn't paying attention any more. She was looking around the stadium, bored.

Drake walked onstage then, and Mimi jabbed her elbow into the nearest person. "I said _shut up_," she hissed.

"Sorry, Mimi." The person ducked their head.

Mimi laughed when Lupin got reaped. "He's so old! He won't stand a chance! That's ridiculous!"

Her sycophants laughed obediently in unison, only to be silenced by Mimi again. Drake was reaping the girl tribute.

"Madeleine Force."

"Oh no, Mimi, not you!" gasped one of her followers.

"Mimi, poor you!"

"Oh no!"

Mimi just rolled her eyes. "I'll be okay. Shut up."

She smiled. Oh, she would be fine. It was the other tributes they had to worry about.

**District Eight Male: Edward Cullen**

"Bella," Edward murmured, burying his face in her hair.

"Edward," Bella sighed, pushing her hands against his chest. **(Oh god, I'm terrible at romance. I want to gag.)**

They stayed in their embrace for an indeterminate time. A timeless time, but a happy time. It might have been a minute, or an hour. The only thing that soured the mood was the knowledge that they would have to leave soon, to go to the reaping.

Finally Edward pulled away from Bella, and looked at her fondly. "Bella…we have to go."

"So soon?" Bella looked up into his eyes.

"Yes. But it will be over soon, and we can come back."

"All right."

Edward and Bella clasped hands and took off, racing to the stadium. Despite their distance from the stadium, they reached it in minutes.

Edward sat at the back of the stadium, with Bella on his lap. They paid little attention to anything going on around them, including the escort, Meggie. Instead they sat gazing into the other's eyes, loath to waste a single moment with each other.

"Bella," whispered Edward suddenly, "You forgot your contacts!"

Bella reached up to her face. "Oh. But my eyes are only a little red now, so it's okay, right?"

Edward studied her face. "They are more gold now, aren't they." He smiled. "Yeah, it's okay. We're in back, anyway."

Suddenly his face snapped up to the stage. Bella gasped. She had heard it too. "No," she whispered. "No!"

Edward stared viciously at the stage. His name had been called. He couldn't refuse to go up, either. Meggie had the power to call characters from books into the real world, and already Edward was feeling the urge to walk onto the stage. Meggie was the reason they were here—the reason _everybody_ was here. She was very powerful.

Edward looked down into Bella's frightened eyes. His gaze softened, but it was still razor-sharp. "I have to go, but I will come back. I promise."

Bella's lip quivered, but she nodded. He was a vampire. He would win. Comforted, she kissed him lightly. They would see each other again in a few weeks.

**District Eight Female: Sheena Fujibayashi**

Sheena flopped down into her couch. She had just come from a practice session with her trainer, and now she was bone-tired. The argument hadn't helped either. Her trainer had kept her practicing for too long, and Sheena had thought it was unfair. Now he would probably make her do extra next time.

Suddenly Sheena leaped up from the couch. The reapings! She was _really_ late! Sheena ran out the front door and collided with a Peacekeeper. Without thinking, she whipped out a shuriken and threw it into the Peacekeeper's chest. Then she realized who they were and bowed. "Sorry," she said.

The Peacekeepers took her by the arms and marched her over to the stadium, ignoring her apologies and protests. Finally, they let her walk, a hundred feet from the stadium. Sheena ran for the doors, trying to get there before any more time passed.

Her foot caught on something, and she tripped, flying over the ground and landing sprawled across the dirt. "Damn," she hissed as she hurriedly brushed off her clothes. She skidded into the stadium and immediately heard her name called.

"Sheena Fujibayashi!"

"Here!" she called, breathless. "I'm here." She straightened up and saw that everybody's eyes were on her.

Slowly it dawned on her. "Oh…_no_," she breathed.

But she shrugged away her feelings. She walked calmly to the front. She could handle anything the Games could throw at her.

**District Nine Male: Dr. Facilier**

Dr. Facilier rubbed his hands together, an eager smile on his face. "So," he said, "We have a deal? Same as every year?"

He was talking to masks on the wall, gruesome painted faces. The biggest one, in the center of the wall, smiled, showing its white teeth. "Of course," it rumbled. "Same as every year. You will not get chosen, unless you have done something to displease us this year."

Dr. Facilier frowned, but hid it with a bow. "Thank you, friends," he said. He smiled oily, and left, slinking out of the door. Darkness fell over the masks.

The center mask smiled evilly. Dr. Facilier was in for a surprise.

Dr. Facilier walked over to the stadium with a smooth, confident smile. He was safe from the Games for another year…unless his friends from the other side didn't like something he had done. Dr. Facilier pushed that thought out of his mind. He was fine.

He found his voodoo cart right where he had left it, pushed against the side of the stadium. He set it up and began peddling his craft, selling tarot card readings and future tellings. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn't even notice when the escort called his name.

"Dr. Facilier! Get up here!"

Dr. Facilier stopped cold. He looked up, a terrified expression on his face. "Impossible!" he whispered. The shadows were displeased with him…he would have a tough job staying alive.

**District Nine Female: Violet Parr**

"I'mgonnagettherebeforeyou!" Dash shouted at Violet. He took off, zooming out of the house and leaving behind a trail of dust.

Violet rolled her eyes. "Mom," she called, "Dash left without us again."

Helen came out of the kitchen, where she was feeding Jack-Jack. "Well, he'll just have to wait for us there. I'm not going to get him."

"Has dad already left?"

"Yes, he had to prepare. Are you ready?" Helen went back into the kitchen. "I have to finish feeding Jack-Jack."

"Yeah. I got Dash's clothes, too."

"What?" Helen poked her head around the corner. "He left in his suit, _again_?"

"Yeah." Violet held up his clothes.

"Well." Helen paused, and her head disappeared back around the corner so she could focus on the baby. "He'll get his clothes when we get there."

She came into the living room, carrying Jack-Jack. "Let's go."

They met Dash just outside of the stadium.

"I hope nobody saw you in that supersuit, young man!" scolded Helen.

"It's okay, mom. Can I have my regular clothes now?" Dash grabbed his clothes form her and put them on.

"Now let's go in," Helen said. She took Dash by the hand and led him to their seats. "Now Dash, you sit here," she said. "Violet will be right over there."

"Okay, mom, can you go now?" Dash asked, bouncing up and down on his seat.

Helen smiled. "See you soon." She and Violet left.

They reached Violet's seat. "See you in an hour," Helen said, and kissed Violet on her forehead.

"Bye, mom."

Violet waited for the reaping to start, patiently chatting with her friends. Finally the escort came onstage.

Violet smiled as she watched her dad. He tapped the microphone that was hooked to his shirt. "This thing on?" he said. "Oh. Okay." He cleared his throat.

"Welcome to the three hundred and fiftieth Hunger Games. Please be silent as I choose the male tribute." The person called didn't come up until Mr. Incredible called him again.

Mr. Incredible cleared his throat again. "The female tribute is…" He picked a slip.

"Viol…" He trailed off and stared at the paper. Then he shouted and punched the podium. It went flying, but he didn't even notice. He was staring at the paper. He looked up and his eyes met Violet's. He had an anguished look on his face.

Then the Peacekeepers surrounded him.

It dawned on Violet why he had punched the podium. Her body went cold and she froze in place, her smile dying.

The Head Peacekeeper picked up the slip of paper that Mr. Incredible had held. "Violet Parr," he read.

Violet stood up numbly. She walked to the stage. Her father broke free of the Peacekeepers and hugged her. "I'm sorry, Violet, but I know you can do this."

Violet looked up into her dad's eyes. "Yeah, I got this," she said, and smiled weakly. She didn't think she could make it, though, even with her powers. There were bound to be other people with better powers.

But she had to try.


	6. Reapings 10 to 12

**I got my laptop a LOT sooner then expected! :D**

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS.**

**(Note: I haven't seen Star Wars (I really want to though!), so I don't know Luke.)**

**District Ten Male: Luke Skywalker**

"God, when will the reapings start?" Luke wondered. "This is taking such a long time." He twisted around in his seat

to look impatiently over at the seats behind him. They were half-filled. Luke had definitely come too early.

"Gaah," he muttered under his breath as he waited for what seemed like an eternity. His thoughts turned to the one thing he really liked: piloting. He really wanted to be a starfighter pilot. To be up there, zooming through the stars, seeing the planets and nebulae flying past, all alone in space—that was what he wanted to do.

"Hey. Hey!" somebody shouted. Luke was rudely jolted out of his reverie, and looked up to see an angry teenager staring him down. "What do you want?" Luke said curtly.

"Get out of the seat," the kid said arrogantly.

"Why should I?"

"I'm Caine. Caine Soren."

"So what?" Luke snorted.

Caine sneered. "I could throw you right out of that seat if I wanted to. I'm just being polite right now."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Polite, yeah. I'm not getting out."

Caine smirked. "We'll see about that." He raised his hands. Without warning, Luke was suddenly lifted out of the seat and thrown against the wall.

"Hey!" he shouted, and got to his feet, seething. That kid was in trouble now. Luke made a motion, and Caine flew ten feet into the air before smashing back down into the ground. He got up, spitting dirt out, and lifted his hands again. Luke ducked, darted to the side, and concentrated.

Caine was dragged along the aisle, shouting, his clothes getting dirty and ripped. He raised his hands, and Luke was jerked to the right. Luke was about to retaliate when his arm was gripped by a huge green man.

"No fighting," the monster growled, and shoved Luke into a seat. Through a cloud of dust, Luke could see the green muscled giant doing the same to Caine. Luke sank down in his seat and glared over at Caine. He wouldn't forget him.

But at least the fight had killed time. The escort, some kid called Josh Newman, had finished the introduction.

"The guy tribute is Luke Skywalker."

"What?" Luke stared at Josh. "Why me? Pick someone else! I'm famous! It can't be me!"

Josh frowned. It looked like he had a hard time reaping someone, but he had to do his job. "I'm sorry, but your name was picked. You have to come up here."

"No way! I don't want to go!"

Luke saw the green, hulking man start menacingly towards him, and cowered in his seat. "No, fine, I'll go! But I don't want to!" He walked onstage, the green guy in the corner of his eye. Luke gulped. Now he was stuck here, stuck in the Games.

Luke saw Caine smirking. Luke scowled. Now he would never get to fight Caine again. That is, unless he came back…

**District Ten Female: Elizabeth Sherman**

Liz watched the two boys fight with their little telekinesis powers. She almost smiled. Boys. Always trying to prove who was the best. As if she couldn't take them out with her powers.

Then the Hulk separated them, pulling the boys apart with his bare hands. Liz was impressed. He was strong. But he had his weaknesses, like everybody else. Even her.

She smiled bitterly. Even her.

She turned her attention back to the escort. He walked onto the stage, looking nervous.

"Welcome to the three hundred and fiftieth Hunger Games. The twist is that, um, that…" he squinted into the air, as if his speech was written in the sky. "That anybody of any age is eligible for the reapings." He looked disgusted at his own words. Without saying anything else, he reaped the male tribute.

"The guy tribute is Luke Skywalker."

"What?"

Liz smiled. Oh the irony. Luke was a coward, too. It took a look from the Hulk to get him on the stage. That guy wouldn't get far in the Games if he went around complaining all the time.

Josh looked irritated at having to deal with Luke. His brow was furrowed as he reached for the other slip of paper.

"Elizabeth Sherman."

Liz stared incredulously at him. It was her? But of course it would be her. She smiled bitterly. Just her luck to be paired with this jerk of a district partner. How in the world was she supposed to deal with him for the next four weeks?

Four weeks. That's how long Liz had to live, max.

But she had to be brave. She could win this; she could do it. All it would take was a bit of her, shall we say, skill with fire, and she would survive longer than anyone else.

But for now she had to concentrate on not killing Luke, at least until the Games started.

**District Eleven Male: Leck of Monsea**

**(Warning: a little graphic ahead…close your eyes if you can't handle it.)**

Leck smiled eerily as he drew the knife across the squirrel's back. Blood welled up through the fur as the knife split the skin, slowly tracing a line down the small, trembling animal. The squirrel jerked and wriggled, trying to escape Leck's grasp, but he only held it tighter. He lifted the knife again, stopping the cut at the base of the tail, and held it over the squirrel's back. The squirrel flinched when the knife touched its skin again. Leck smiled and pushed the point into the fur, marking the starting point of the second line. Blood spilled over the sides of the animal and wetted Leck's hand. He grinned maliciously. He shifted his grip on the knife and hovered the tip over the squirrel, choosing his next cut.

"I do not think you want to do that."

Leck looked up. A woman was standing over him, scowling and shifting a wooden stave from hand to hand ominously. She wore the lightweight leather armor of the Batu tribe, and her skin was very dark. She one of the Batu—the warrior tribe that used to hunt for the district, until the main export became plant food and not meat. Leck recognized her. She was Loor, the most active protester of the Hunger Games.

"You are hurting the animal. Release it."

Leck stood up, still holding the squirrel. Loor subtly shifted her weight, readying herself in case he wanted a fight.

"Don't worry," Leck said. "The squirrel likes it." He smiled at her.

Loor hesitated. Her eyes became unfocused and confused. "It…you are not hurting it?" she asked.

Leck smiled again, staring into her eyes. "It feels nothing," he said soothingly. "I'm not hurting it."

Loor stared at the squirrel, confusion etched on her face. She tensed as her mind struggled with Leck's words, then relaxed, her muscles going slack and her face staring blankly at Leck.

"Yes," she said. She stared glassily at the squirrel. "You can continue."

Leck smiled.

* * *

Violet Baudelaire walked onstage, to the polite applause of the audience. "Thank you," she said. When she reached the podium, she paused to tie up her hair.

"Welcome to the three hundred and fiftieth Hunger Games. Thank you all for coming here today…"

Leck didn't care about her speech. His gaze wandered around the stadium, lingering on several of the girls. He returned to stare at Violet. Hm…

"The male tribute is…Leck of Monsea."

Leck's lips curled into a creepy smile. He could convince them to pick another tribute, but…he didn't really want to do that. Going into the Hunger Games would be fun, as long as they had knives. And once he won, he would be in the Victor's Village, rich and able to do whatever he wanted. It would almost be like being a king again.

And nobody ever opposed a king.

**District Eleven Female: Penny Redvine**

**(yeah, I know that in Fear (spoiler alert!) she dies, but pretend that didn't happen. Because she's almost perfect for the Games.)**

Penny watched Leck's eyes wander over the stadium. She knew he would never gawp at her, ever. She was a skinny, unremarkable young girl. That was probably lucky, though—the attention of Leck was a bad thing. Everybody heard the rumors about girls coming back from his bed with mysterious cuts and bruises, strangely disoriented and distant. But Penny desperately wanted someone to desire her, even though she knew she would never be the object of somebody's affection as simply herself.

So Penny became…not herself.

As Leck's gaze passed over her seat, she created an illusion for him: instead of a stick-thin, knobbly twelve-year-old, Leck saw a beautiful blonde with a perfect body. As Penny winked at him, comfortable in her disguise, his jaw dropped a little and his eyebrows raised. Penny smiled smugly, reveling in the attention. For one second, as Leck mind-groped her, she felt confident and pretty.

But then Violet Baudelaire coughed, signaling the end of her speech, and Penny's reign over Leck ended. He wouldn't normally stop staring at a hot girl for anything in the world, but Violet was pretty too. Lucky Violet, thought Penny sourly, her illusion vanishing. _Violet_ didn't have to pretend. Penny briefly considered punishing Violet, make her think there were cockroaches crawling out of her eyes—hah, that was fun with Cigar, too bad he ended up clawing his own eyes out—but reluctantly decided against it. The Peacekeepers knew of her ability, and anything she did would eventually be traced back to her.

Shame…Penny would have so much fun if no one knew what she could do.

* * *

When Penny's name was called, she almost didn't hear it at first; she was so caught up imagining what she would do to Violet. Then her head jerked up as it finally sunk into her brain. "What?" she gasped. Oh god no, she couldn't go into the Games! It would be too much like the FAYZ, too much horror repeating itself, too much starvation, fighting. And she didn't even know how to fight, apart from the knowledge needed to wield a sharp stick. The other tributes would see a weak, puny girl, and they would go after her, and tear her to pieces, and—

Oh. No, they wouldn't see a little girl, would they. The little girl would mysteriously vanish at the beginning, and instead they would see a huge monster, feel its claws ripping into their flesh. She might have the perfect talent for this after all.

She walked up to the stage with her head held high. Yeah, she could do this. She could win. But then she saw the pity in the eyes of the audience, the kind, sad looks in their eyes, and she started to scowl. She didn't need their pity. She didn't need their compassion. She was better than that, better than the hopeless child they thought she was. Their sentiments fueled Penny's rage. She would prove them wrong; turn out to be the strongest one in the arena. She would show all of the tributes, teach them to have respect for her. She would become the most powerful one in the arena—and then make them all pay for their disrespect. In horrible, horrible ways.

She wasn't a child. She was a warrior now, a young woman. She had survived the FAYZ. She could survive the Games.

**District Twelve Male: Castiel Angel**

Castiel sighed and rubbed his eyes as he walked up to his seat. He would never understand why these humans gathered to celebrate the gruesome slaughter of their children. Surely they would protest, surely they would rise up against the tyranny of the Capitol. But mentions of rebellion were few and far between, obscured by a hand to the mouth or a lowered head and a hushed voice. The few who ever dared to utter their thoughts out loud often disappeared without a trace, leaving only rumors and whispered speculations as to their whereabouts. And no one ever asked about the missing, too afraid to confront the blank, masked face of the law.

Perhaps that was it; perhaps that was why there was no open rebellion. Fear kept the districts in line, fear of what the Capitol might do to the rebels. Everyone, as soon as they were old enough to understand, was told about the two failed rebellions: the one of the year 75, and the one of the year 151. Both had resulted in the brutal destruction of the rebels, and the torture and murder of the prisoners of war. The second war had been the most grisly, with the capture and murder of over 17,000 rebels. That had scared the districts into submission, a quiet period lasting exactly 199 years so far.

That was actually quite a long while of peace. Perhaps there would be another uprising soon, another futile attempt at overthrowing the Capitol. The districts would not win; they were pretty much doomed to live under the Capitol's rule forever. Castiel did not necessarily want the districts to fail at their rebellion; he was an angel, and therefore impartial; but it was obvious that they would never succeed. The Capitol, while appearing to be composed of silly, giggling idiots, had advanced weaponry and a competent army. In addition, the seizing of District Thirteen's nuclear missiles in the rebellion of 75 had given the Capitol power against which the districts could never hope to contend.

And so here they all were, in the most wretched district, gathering for the selection of another poor soul. Castiel had actually requested to be placed in District Twelve. He was interested in studying the lives of those humans who had little. Perhaps the emotions of those who had almost nothing to focus on but their own thoughts could give him some insight into the human mind. He was already understanding a little more of humans' actions, more than he had back in the other world. It was fascinating, watching how the peasants compensated for what they had not.

Now they were all dressed in their finest clothes, grudgingly awaiting the start of the reaping. The chatter quieted down as the escort walked onstage. Castiel vaguely pitied—no, not pitied, he's not supposed to feel for these caskets of flesh—_could see_ how humans would pity this little girl. Although she was fifteen, Lucy Pevensie still seemed innocent, cute and childlike, too young and fragile for such a burden. She most likely knew how everybody thought of her, pitied her, looked upon her plight with a small sad shake of their heads, but still she held her head high. This portrait of innocence tainted, of lonesome bravery, was a perfect snapshot of the Hunger Games. And now this paragon of purity was going to have to yet again reap one child, as sweet and naïve as Lucy herself had been, to compete in the Games. This was yet another Capitol wrong, yet another crime against a people simply trying to live their lives.

Of course, that was all how a human might have thought of it. Castiel would never even _dream_ of breaking his neutral tone. To do that would be to deviate from the task he had been placed on Earth for. **(and no, I have no idea what that task is. i've never seen the TV show he's in)**

Lucy's hand trembled as she reached into the glass bowl. It was plain on her face that she did not want to do this. But it was her task, and if Queen Lucy the Valiant must do something, than do it she would. This was possibly the most unpleasant, horrifying task in the entire district, but Lucy approached it with courage and determination.

She pulled out the slip of paper, and Castiel could tell by the slight relaxation of her face that it was no one Lucy knew. That would make it easier to bear, although knowing Lucy she would still feel guilty. It was her questing fingers, after all, that had chosen the individual's name, and her voice that would be reading out their name.

"Castiel Angel."

Castiel bore no grudge towards Lucy for choosing his name. It was not her fault, after all, and if his name hadn't been picked, then some other unfortunate would have been reaped. Yes, better for Castiel to have been chosen. This way, he could study the mentality of the tributes; gain more knowledge of the inner workings of the human mind. He could observe the behavior of the tributes; understand why they made choices that would turn them into killers.

And who knows, he might become a killer himself. That would be…interesting.

**(wow, I wrote a lot with Castiel for a guy I know nothing about)**

**District Twelve Female: Chaos**

Solemnly, a small child showed Chaos a purple crayon.

"What's that?" Chaos asked, bending down and adopting a motherly tone. "Is it your favorite crayon?"

The child nodded. Chaos smiled. "What do you like to draw?"

The child thought for a while before sitting down on the ground and beginning to draw. He drew for a while, seemingly lost in the world he had created. Chaos watched for a little bit before she politely sidled away to look for his mother.

"Miss?" she asked, tapping a nearby adult on the shoulder. "Is that your son?"

"Oh, yes!" The woman rushed over to the boy. "Come on, Harold, it's time to go!" She scooped him up in her arms and smiled at Chaos. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Chaos watched them recede into the crowd. She looked around at the stadium, bored. There was nothing to do here. But there never was, really. Ever since she had been confined in this puny form, unable to unleash her powers, her "things to do" list had become considerably shorter. For example, she could no longer destroy worlds, or continue her battle with Order, or zip down to the nearest intergalactic Starbucks and get herself a Mars coffee.

Just kidding, of course. There was no such thing as Mars coffee.

You got coffee on Neptune.

Kidding again.

God, there was really nothing to do.

* * *

Finally the reapings had started. Not that she wanted more people to die, of course. Or maybe she did. It didn't really matter to her. They were all just humans.

Lucy started her speech. Chaos figuratively squinted at her. Even while all humans were just humans, this one stood out. She was noble, and kind, and carried respect. Not to mention she was a prominent figure in most of the District Twelve citizens' lives. Everyone knew Lucy, and how she gave away most all of her money and food and things she didn't need. Lucy was possibly the least suited to be a victor; she hated to see others suffer when she had so much. So every once in a while, there was a queue outside the door of her mansion as she gave away her unnecessary things.

Chaos grew curious when Castiel was reaped. All humans were just humans, but this one wasn't human. He might hide it from the others, but Chaos could tell. He was an angel, a divine being sent from Heaven. It would be interesting to see how he fared against bloodthirsty teenagers.

"The female tribute will be…Chaos?" Lucy's voice went up a little at the end, like she wasn't exactly sure if that was a name or not. She looked up, a puzzled look on her face.

Chaos stood up calmly. She didn't have to worry about a horde of adrenalin-charged kids. It was probably the angel she had to watch out for the most. Although perhaps she could befriend him instead. He could be useful as an ally.

Castiel tilted his head quizzically as she stood next to him. He probably could tell that she was more than human, too. Chaos smiled at him, but his expression remained the same. Would he be an enemy or a friend?

Perhaps she should consider everyone an enemy. Just to be safe.

**ALL RIGHT PEOPLE, NOW I HAVE A CHALLENGE FOR YOU! EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER MENTIONED BY NAME IS SOMEONE FROM A BOOK OR A MOVIE, INCLUDING THE ESCORTS. IF YOU CAN TELL ME WHAT BOOK/MOVIE EVERY CHARACTER IS FROM, YOU'LL GET TO HAVE A HUGE INFLUENCE ON THE CHARACTER OF YOUR CHOICE.**

**PMs only please, unless you don't have an account.**

**Here's a list of everyone you can guess. Go back to read the name and in some cases, description of the character, then fill in the blanks to tell me what book/movie they are from. YOU ARE ****NOT ****ALLOWED TO GOOGLE THEIR NAMES OR DESCRIPTIONS! NOT AT ALL! THAT DEFEATS THE PURPOSE OF THIS CHALLENGE.**

**Quell Announcement**

**1. ("Lord Rust"):**

**2. ("Dr. Burrows"):**

**District One**

**1. ("Bobby Pendragon"):**

**2. ("Beckett" and "Artemis Fowl"):**

**District Two**

**1. ("Rufus Scrimgeour"):**

**District Three**

**1. ("Kendra Sorenson"):**

**District Four**

**1. ("Seth Sorenson"):**

**District Five**

**1. ("Eragon"):**

**District Six**

**1. ("Cobb"):**

**District Seven**

**1. ("Drake"):**

**District Eight**

**1. ("Meggie"):**

**District Nine**

**1. ("Mr. Incredible"):**

**District Ten**

**1. ("Caine Soren"):**

**2. ("the Hulk"):**

**3. ("Josh Newman"):**

**District Eleven**

**1. ("Loor"):**

**2. ("Violet Baudelaire"):**

**District Twelve**

**1. ("Lucy Pevensie"):**

**2. ("Harold"): (hint: he has a purple crayon)**

**I don't actually expect anybody to get every single one of them right. But if you do, and you didn't google anything, and you've actually read all of these books, then WOW. You might just have complete control over a character. Maybe several. Maybe yours will win.**

**But if you DO google them…**

**Then I will crawl into your room in the middle of the night and smash your laptop into a billion tiny pieces. **

**On that happy note, please review! Reviews are the fruit of life. Thanks to JoshuaEvans123, To Funny, Larka Rinna Luna, and Anonymous for reviewing :)**


	7. Chariot Rides

**Thanks to everyone who accepted the challenge (which is all of three people). It's still open, in case anybody else wants to do it :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters or the Hunger Games.**

"Avengers Assemble!" Tony shouted from the living room. "The chariot rides are on. Don't you want to see who the mighty god of thunder will be competing against? And plus it's mandatory viewing for everyone in the world."

Steve entered the room, shaking his head. "I still can't believe the Hunger Games. It's horrible. We should have done something. We should have shut it down years ago."

"Yeah, well we didn't." Tony spoke briskly. "We talked about it, yeah, it's bad, but the world's not in our hands anymore. We can't do anything about it. Do you want to get killed? I don't. So we're not starting a rebellion."

"And now Thor's been reaped."

"Well, he seemed excited enough about it." Bruce spoke up from his place leaning against the wall. "You saw the whole lightning thing." He smiled wryly. "He won't really have any trouble in there."

"Like you." Tony spun around from where he had been pouring himself a drink and pointed at Bruce. "You'd tear up that place." He raised a finger when Bruce started to object. "No, shut up, you'd do great. Some guy would try to kill you and then you'd go all giant green rage monster on him. And you'd win the Games." He smiled brightly. "Hey, you should've volunteered for Thor. You could've been lounging in some mansion by Monday."

"You mean, another mansion?" Clint dropped from the ceiling. "In case you hadn't noticed, we're in one right now."

Tony frowned at Clint. "Hey, I told you no crawling through the air ducts."

"Whatever." Clint walked over to the minibar. "You got any vodka?"

"I didn't know you liked vodka. In fact I specifically stocked a lot more beer because _you_ said—"

"Like you need an excuse to buy more alcohol. Besides, it's not for me, it's for Tasha."

"She's not even here yet. No, wait, don't tell me, she's been here this whole time."

Natasha smirked, walking in from behind Clint. "Nice try, Stark, but no. Right here." She took the glass from Clint.

Tony scowled at her. "Whatever. We should have already started watching the chariot rides by now anyway, so you're late. Sit down."

Natasha rolled her eyes but sat on the couch, crossing her legs. The other Avengers took seats around the room.

Steve picked up the remote.

"Oh, no. Here we go again," Tony muttered. The rest of the team couldn't help having similar sentiments as they watched Steve stare at the remote for a few seconds. He hesitated, and then pressed a button.

"Steve, that was the Tivo."

"I know." Steve flushed for a second and fumbled with the remote again.

"Steve! You just bought Twilight. I don't want Twilight on my Tivo, it's a shitty movie and it cost fourteen dollars. How does Twilight cost fourteen dollars? What a rip-off! Give me the remote!"

"Wait a second. I'm trying."

The team watched Steve flounder with the remote in silence for a few moments, until Bruce finally took pity on him and gently removed the remote from his fingers. "I got this, Steve."

Steve blushed and sat back. "I was doing okay," he mumbled.

"Yeah, okay as in screwing up my whole TV system. You know what?" Tony snapped his fingers. "Jarvis. Channel fourteen."

"Yes sir," replied the AI. The TV abruptly switched to the image of Lord Rust.

"—to welcome everyone to the opening of the chariot rides. I am sure this year's Hunger Games will be…spectacular," Lord Rust said haughtily.

"His accent gets me every time," Tony muttered into his glass. "Ahpening. Chahriot. Yeeahs_. _Spectahculah. He talks like an aristocrat."

"Shut up," hissed Natasha, hitting him on the arm.

"Shutting up."

The camera panned over to the announcer, Rita Skeeter. She grinned in her special reporter way—the smug, evil, I-know-all-your-secrets smile.

"God, I hate her," Tony said.

"Just because she's the only person who ever made you mess up doesn't mean you should hate her," said Bruce, stifling a smile.

"Yes it does," said Natasha. She grinned. "That was possibly the most amusing thing I have ever seen in my life. The great Tony Stark, reduced to a stammering idiot in front of a woman holding a microphone. How did that ever happen?"

"The woman's a shark," said Tony. "That grin of hers would cause any other man to break down in tears. It's only because I'm me that I didn't."

"Please," Clint scoffed. "The only reason you didn't cry is because you knew you could get her fired later."

"I _did_ get her fired. But then she slept with Rust and got that job. Or something."

"Quiet, the chariots are coming out."

"Yes, _dad_." Tony rolled his eyes at Steve.

"And here comes Distriiiict One!" cheered Skeeter. The Capitol audience exploded into applause as the doors at the end of the stadium opened and the first chariot sped out.

* * *

"There's Thor!" Tony pointed at the screen. "Hey, nice theme. Good thing we live in District Five, or they wouldn't have any use for Thor the god of thunder."

Thor's chariot was painted with swirls of dark grey and black, the pattern mimicking storm clouds. Electricity crackled around the two figures standing heroically on the highest point of the chariot, Thor dressed in his usual armor and the girl in a more womanized version. When they reached the center of the stage, Thor roared and thrust his hammer into the air. Immediately a rumble of thunder was heard and a wind kicked up, whipping and snapping the two figures' capes. In the middle of the stadium, a swirling mass of dark clouds appeared, centering on Thor's upraised arm. With an earsplitting burst of thunder, lightning struck the hammer, lighting up the whole building. Exclamations came from the audience as they raised their arms to shield their eyes from the blinding flash.

When the clouds cleared and the thunder subsided to a low rumble, Skeeter leaned back towards her microphone, having skidded backwards when the lightning struck.

"Well, that was—" she started to say, but yelped and jerked back again when the microphone shocked her finger. She took a deep breath and smoothed back her frizzed hair.

"Well, that was certainly an impressive show," she said breathlessly, trying to smile. It was clear she hadn't liked it much, but if it was what the audience wanted, then she would have to sell it. "Let's give a hand to Thor Odinson from District Five!"

The audience went wild. They loved a show, and luckily Thor loved the attention. He raised his hands, a broad smile on his face. A rose fell on him, and he looked startled for a second, but then picked it up and clenched it in his right hand, Mjolnir in the other. He raised his arms again, and the crowd roared louder than before.

Even Natasha was impressed. "Wow," she said, raising an eyebrow. Tony couldn't help but agree. Thor cut a mighty figure, standing in the chariot, with little shocks of electricity buzzing around him. Here, you could believe he was the god of thunder.

Here, you could believe he would come home.

* * *

**I hope I did Tony Stark justice, because I kinda maybe have a crush on him :-/  
**

**Please review! Next chapter's not going up until I get ten reviews total.  
**


	8. Training Day One

**Training, Day One**

Annabeth Chase (D3) woke up on an unfamiliar bed. For a moment she didn't know where she was. Why was she in this fancy bedroom? Where was her simple but cozy house? She sat up and frowned, trying to recall the events of the night before. Then she remembered. She'd been reaped. Now she was at the Capitol, preparing for the Hunger Games.

Ugh. Annabeth flopped back onto the bed and lay there, staring at the ceiling, until finally she forced herself out of bed. She had to get ready, had to be presentable for the first day of training. She didn't want the other tributes to think she was incapable of taking care of herself.

After showering and dressing, she walked over to the kitchen. This floor was a maze of hallways and dead ends, so it was a while before Annabeth reached the kitchen. When she finally found the right room, she paused before going in. Her district partner was already awake, sitting at the kitchen table and peeling an orange. His chair was leaned back and his boots were propped up on the table. He gave the impression of being very relaxed, but Annabeth decided it must be an act. Nobody could be that laid back after they had just been reaped.

The man looked up when she entered the room, his eyes flashing to meet hers. He nodded, greeting her, and dropped his eyes to the orange in his hands again.

"I'm Annabeth." She sat down across from him.

"Po." He obviously wasn't interested in talking, so Annabeth fixed herself a bowl of cereal and ate it in silence.

When Po had finished the orange, he took his boots off the table and returned the chair to its normal position.

"So," he said, leaning forward. His eyes pierced Annabeth's. There was definitely something strange about his gaze, but she couldn't quite figure it out. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that one eye was gold and the other silver.

"What can you do?" he asked.

Annabeth wasn't sure how much she should tell him. He didn't seem like he would kill her, but you could never tell.

"I'm good with strategy," she said. She was the daughter of Athena, but if she told him that he would think she was crazy.

Po studied her for a second. He could tell there was something she wasn't telling him, but if he was curious, he didn't ask. He nodded instead. "Okay. Are you any good with weapons?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I can use a knife and a sword."

Po nodded again, his uneven eyes staring into hers for a second. "I'm good at wrestling…hand-to-hand fighting, that sort of stuff. And I can use a sword pretty well, too."

Annabeth nodded. He would be good to have around, but she didn't entirely trust him. If he was her ally, she would never be sure if he would stick around or stab her in the back.

Po's lips quirked, almost smiling, as if he had heard that thought. But the expression was gone in an instant, and he and Annabeth stared at each other awkwardly until Annabeth dropped her gaze.

She stood up, ready to leave. "I'm going to go find my mentor," she said.

"Kendra's in her bedroom. Down the hall, first right, second door on the left."

Annabeth nodded uneasily. How did he know exactly where she was? There was definitely more to him than met the eye.

As she exited the kitchen, she could feel his eyes on her back. Annabeth decided then that she didn't want him as an ally. He was too…strange.

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District Three was one of the last ones to enter the training center. It wasn't Po's fault, although Annabeth might have suspected it because of his relaxed attitude. It was her own fault; she hadn't been able to find her special Yankees baseball hat. It turned the wearer invisible, and had been a gift from Athena. Luckily Annabeth found it at the last minute. She hadn't been planning on wearing it to the Training Center—she just wanted to know she had it.

When she and Po entered the center, everyone's eyes turned to them for a moment before they lost interest and went back to their training. But one person ran towards them—Percy.

"Percy!" Annabeth cried. She had almost forgotten that he had been reaped too. She had seen the reapings late last night, when she was dead tired.

"Annabeth!" They hugged tightly for a moment, then Percy released her.

"Man, this really sucks, doesn't it?" he said, somehow managing to sum up the situation in one sentence.

"Yeah." Annabeth half-smiled.

"So what do we do now?" asked Percy. "I've been using the swords a little. Waiting for you."

"Okay." Annabeth scanned the Training Center. Some tributes were using the stations, but quite a lot of them were just standing around the edge, watching or talking with other tributes.

"We need to see what the other tributes are good at. We need to make some kind of strategy."

"Sure." They retreated into a corner and stood looking out at the Center. "Let's pick out the threats first," suggested Annabeth. "That guy definitely looks dangerous." She pointed to a huge buff guy who was smashing things with a heavy hammer.

"Woah." Percy raised his eyebrows as the hammer slammed a dummy into the floor so hard it left a dent. "Yeah. Gotta watch out for that guy."

They picked out several more people, including two girls at the gun station, some red monster swinging his sword around, a girl at the throwing dagger station, and Annabeth's district partner, who was wrestling with an instructor.

"I know that guy," said Annabeth. "He—"

Across the room someone screamed. Annabeth and Percy turned to see Leck writhing on the floor, screaming in agony. Over him stood a girl, or woman, it was hard to tell, dressed in black. She was smiling sweetly, innocently, but there was something about her grin that made Annabeth uneasy.

Jane stood over Leck for a second more, smiling at his screams, and then turned away. As soon as she abandoned interest, Leck stopped screaming and gasped raggedly, trying to get his breath back. He groaned and rolled over on his stomach, attempting to stand up, but his limbs were quivering so much that he crashed back to the floor.

Jane started to stride back to the wall, but she was suddenly blocked by Edward. He snarled at her, his body held poised for a fight. "These humans can't do anything to hurt you," he said in a voice too low for anybody but her to hear.

Jane tilted her head. "Do you really want to start this here? With all these _fragile_ humans around…" Her eyes seemed to glow redder. "What might happen if one of them started bleeding?"

Edward hissed. "You're not allowed to kill them, Jane."

Jane smiled. "Not yet."

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**Okay, so I'm considering several different arenas. I'll write the descriptions here. Please tell me which one you like the most! PMs preferred. Don't read this if you want to be surprised by the arena.**

**Ruins:** In the middle of a hot, dry desert stand the massive ruins of an old stone castle. The air is scorched and dry, but cool shadows can be found under the huge lumps of stone. Some rooms of the castle are still intact—such as the Great Hall, where the tributes come up in a half-circle around the Cornucopia—and part of the second story remains. The basement is also accessible through several trapdoors and one blocked staircase. Perhaps the Careers struggle to retain occupation of the basement. The ruins of several other buildings are strewn across the desert, the furthest twenty miles out. Perhaps a promising mirage in the distance. Water in small pools of collected dew or whatever, and a little in the Cornucopia. Food and weapons in Cornucopia. The setting would look beautiful by night—a huge, bright moon illuminating the ruins, creating an unworldly, brilliantly silent effect. At night the temperature would be cold and sharp, the nights clear and freezing. Day would be hot and dry, parching throats of tributes. Twist in the Final Eight.

**Quarters:** The arena is a circle divided into four parts, summer, winter, fall, spring. At the center is the Cornucopia. Tributes come out in a circle around it. The four season-sections of the forest are exactly the same—same trees in same places, same boulders in same places, etc. Every three days the seasons switch spots: summer replaced by winter, fall by spring. In the Final Eight…the trees start walking.

***Copyright JadeBlueIvy. If you want to use any of these settings in your own story, just ask me.***

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**Please review! I was seriously considering abandoning this story until I got Penny From Heaven 14's review. Thanks to you, Megalor9, twigames, Future Starkid Member and Apocalyptic-Mess for reviewing**


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